


I Remember

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Epilogue, First Love, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Lost Love, M/M, Porn With Plot, Romance, Sad Ending, Smut, Top Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-07 13:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21459121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jihoon considered himself an expert at getting over people. Once he ended friendships or any relationship for that matter, he could easily ignore the absence of one’s presence until the point of achieving closure from within. But bumping into Seungcheol one night served as a constant reminder that he would never be able to forget. There was no way he could forget the surging memories of happiness and remorse tied to Seungcheol or the lingering feelings he’s tried to deny for 3 whole years.He couldn’t wipe his disk clean or hard reset his memories. He was a human being.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 61





	1. The Boomerang Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't proofread this before posting so I apologize for any errors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an ideology called the boomerang syndrome: You can throw something away, but sooner or later, it'll come back. And when it does, it's going to smack you against your head.

The night began and ended exactly how Lee Jihoon imagined it would— boring and anticlimactic. In all honesty, he only humored the outing for Seungkwan’s sake. Every day, at the end of their work shift, Seungkwan would give him the most pitiful look he could muster as he once again begged Jihoon to accompany him for drinks, or dinner, or dancing— something. And every day, Jihoon would politely decline. Strangely enough, tonight he was in a giving mood and decided to make his friend’s night.

It was a huge mistake.

From the moment Jihoon woke up in the morning, the thing he looked forward to the most was the moment he could clock in and return home. It wasn’t like he hated his job or his life. He just wasn’t the most social person on Earth. He spent the majority of his hours at work, huddled within his little cubicle, writing well-constructed characters and avoiding his very-real coworkers who seemed to be full of flaws and plot holes. He rarely attended invited lunches (unless mandatory) and made it a point not to make any large waves. He was content with the way things were.

It never really made sense to him how he and Seungkwan managed to be such good friends despite being polar opposites. Jihoon firmly believed that opposites didn’t attract, going as far as to research the myth for validating evidence. The only valid reason he could come up with was that there had to be something, the two had in common. After a year of friendship, however, he had yet to really find out what it was.

Seungkwan was the type of man to draw in attention whenever he entered a room— hell when he exited he may a big scene too. Every time he pitched an idea for his latest novel, he found some way of creating an office-wide spectacle that would more often than not, be met with praise and fanfare. He was infectiously happy all the time and just had a personality that warms you from your very core. Jihoon found it to be extremely impressive and utter bullshit at the same time. He was too much of a realist (though Seungkwan claims he’s more of a pessimist) to believe that Seungkwan really saw everything and everyone through rose-colored lenses. No one could ever be that happy all the time. Jihoon knew very well that most people were just going through the motions and putting on a good show, and if that was the case, Seungkwan was one hell of a performer.

When the easygoing man suggested they get a couple of drinks at a _bar_, it seemed that he conveniently forgot to mention that it would be a _karaoke bar_, and that “a couple of drinks” was lingo for ogling the new, cute DJ that worked there.

For the better half of two hours, Jihoon endured sticking to a plastic leather booth, nursing his Whiskey and coke (he was way too prideful to admit the taste felt like swallowing battery acid to a lightweight), and watching Seungkwan three separate renditions of sappy, love ballads just to get said DJ’s attention.

It wasn’t working.

The red and purple lights danced across the room and bathed the bar’s patrons in its hazy glow. The room became extremely muggy from the numerous amount of bodies dancing and galavanting across the open dance floor. Jihoon could feel the bass of the sound system vibrating beneath his feet and against his back, as he half-heartedly listened to Seungkwan belt out his fourth song of the night— a dancey pop song. Jihoon pushed the black fringe of his hair off of his forehead, stealing a secretive glance at the DJ, who had yet to even look up from his cellphone during Seungkwan’s entire performance. Jihoon clicked his tongue and shook his head. Somehow his role for the night landed in the middle of wingman and stalker.

He sighed as he picked up his own phone, eyeing the time, and closing his eyes at the realization that it was already past midnight. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be, but he typically liked to spend his late Friday night-early Saturday mornings curled up in his apartment, watching reruns of his favorite sitcom and scarfing down an entire box of drug store chocolate.

He was already in the middle of forming passable excuses to leave early when Seungkwan returned to their small table, drenched in a thin layer of sweat. He ran his fingers through his brown hair and plopped down in the chair across from Jihoon, wide grin on his face.

“That was quite a performance,” Jihoon said staring at his friend and tapping his phone against the tabletop.

“Really? You think so? Was it good?” Seungkwan asked probing for more compliments. _How much more ego-stroking am I going to have to do tonight, _Jihoon thought to himself.

“No different than the last three songs you did within the last couple of hours,” Jihoon said rolling his eyes at Seungkwan’s victorious grin.

“Did he look this time?” Seungkwan asked leaning in as if the loud music wouldn’t cover his voice. His eyes darted over his shoulder quickly in the direction of the sound equipment and then back at Jihoon.

“No, Seungkwan. He stared at his phone the whole time, just like the last three times you went up there. Do you have to be so “high school” about this? Why don’t you just go ask for his number?” Jihoon complained in exasperation. “At this rate, they’ll have to hire you to put on a one-man show here.”

Seungkwan sulked into his seat, lips forming into a pout. “He didn’t look at me once tonight.” He stated dejectedly.

“Probably because he can sense a stalker in the making.” Jihoon quipped. Seungkwan reached for the lemon on the rim of Jihoon’s glass and tossed it back at him, hitting him square in the chest. “Hey!”

“You’re a terrible wingman,” Seungkwan muttered, “If I would’ve known that, I would have invited Soonyoung or Minghao.” He reached for his own drink and took a large gulp before setting it back on the table.

“You _should’ve_ invited Soonyoung of Minghao. Had I known this is what you had planned I would’ve gladly stayed my ass at home.” Jihoon said in a huff. “Speaking of which, unless you’re trying to get a record deal, I say we call it a night.”

Seungkwan turned around to eye the DJ again. This time the man was laughing and smiling with a woman, helping her choose a song out of the songbook. Seungkwan turned back to Jihoon and downed his drink in one go. “I’m going to do one more song and then if it doesn’t work we’ll leave.”

Jihoon gave an exaggerated sigh and covered his face with both of his hands. “I can’t watch this anymore. I’m going to wait for you outside and if at,” Jihoon checked his cellphone again, “..1:04 you’re not outside, I’m walking home. You get ten minutes.” He said rising out of his seat. Seungkwan gave a dramatic bow in appreciation and scrambled over to the DJ booth to make his next request.

Jihoon left a small tip on the table and walked out of the main entrance. The night air was brisk and sent a chill down his spine as he stepped further outside. The bass from inside the bar seem to reverberate even louder from the outside and he was almost 100% sure the sudden switch to yet another pop song was Boo Seungkwan’s doing. He made his way past a crowd of rowdy college students forcing their way inside and opted to lean against the wall and wait for Seungkwan to come out.

He felt overstimulated by all the bright neon lights from the strip of bars along the sidewalk and the flashing traffic signs. His ears honed in on multiple conversations from passersby as they entered the karaoke bar or ventured further down the sidewalk. The longer he stood there, feeling completely out of place, the more he plotted on how to torture Seungkwan at work on Monday.

After five minutes, he pulled out his phone and debated ordering a ride home as punishment, but his guilty conscience would never forgive him if he left Seungkwan alone after midnight. He leaned his head against the brick wall of the building and closed his eyes. The cold air was uncommon for a summer night, not that he was complaining, It was a good break from the torturous heat during the day time. But every caress of the wind’s touch across his spine, or his cheek, made him shudder anxiously. It felt strangely unnerving.

“Jihoon?”

Jihoon’s eyes stayed shut—tight. He knew that voice. He wished he didn’t but he knew it all too well to be mistaken. He’d heard that low, husky voice sing in the mornings and moan at night. He knew what it sounded like through a stifled sob and as a frustrated snap. It was a voice he never thought he’d hear again. His subconscious buried the voice so deep within its depths, that Jihoon went on in life wondering if the person ever existed.

But he obviously _did _exist. Jihoon could feel his presence mere feet away from him and could feel his body heat when the distance closed between them.

“Jihoon.” The voice said again more firmly.

Jihoon didn’t know why he was so afraid to open his eyes. He wished it was Seungkwan. He wished he stayed inside and watched another of his friend’s gaudy performances. He wanted to dissolve into the wall he was leaning against and blend into the staggered bricks.

“I know you can hear me Jihoon.”

Jihoon finally opened his eyes slowly, taking in the image before him. The man stood over him if anything he seemed taller than the last time they were together. His dark hair was perfectly put together, framing his face and slightly pushed off of his forehead. He seemed tanner, of course, it could have been from the assortment of flashing lights along the strip. Jihoon also couldn’t help but notice that the man’s sense of style seemed to have greatly improved. He graduated from the simple tees and jeans that Jihoon knew him for and currently wore a black button-down shirt, embroidered in gold trim and matching black slacks.

“Seungcheol,” Jihoon managed to say. He offered what he hoped look like a friendly smile, but inside he was a bundle of nerves.

Seungcheol’s eyes scanned up and down Jihoon’s person and Jihoon could feel himself shrink under the scrutiny. “Long time no see,” Seungcheol said slowly folding his jacket over his arm and crossing them over his chest. “You…you dyed your hair.” His eyes landed on Jihoon’s black locks in awe before trailing his eyes down further. “And you pierced your ear.”

Jihoon self consciously tugged at the lone hoop earring in his left ear and let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah, I…I guess I did.”

The following silence was awkward, to say the least. What exactly do you say to someone that you hadn’t seen in three years? The way their tumultuous …<strike>relationship</strike> situation ended didn’t exactly warrant a heartfelt reunion.

“I heard…I mean I was told by some people that you moved after graduation.” Jihoon said scratching his head for lack of a better thing to do with his hands.

Seungcheol shifted his weight, eyes never leaving Jihoon’s. “I did, but what can I say? I missed it here too much. I’m actually back at the same apartment—you might have seen the pictures I posted,” He said reaching in his back pocket for his phone.

“Oh, I…I actually…don’t follow you…anymore,” Jihoon interrupted.

Seungcheol paused, phone in hand and clicked his tongue. “Of course you don’t.” He said more to himself. He moved to place the phone back in his pocket. “What are you doing here? I thought the bar scene was never really your thing.” He said making an exaggerated gesture with his hands.

Jihoon frowned, tongue in cheek, and folded his arms defensively. “I like it just fine. Besides, I’m here with someone.” He pointed back towards the karaoke bar. “I’m just waiting for him to come out.” Jihoon wasn’t drunk—he was nowhere near intoxicated— but the alcohol had to be playing a trick on him. The expression that waved across Seungcheol’s face almost appeared as one of jealousy…or maybe hurt?

Whatever it was disappeared in less than a second and was replaced by impassiveness. Seungcheol pursed his lips and his thick brows raised as if to say ‘oh.’ He slowly nodded looking around the perimeter of the bar, avoiding Jihoon’s gaze. “Must be someone really special to get you come out on a Friday night.”

Jihoon swallowed back the guilt forming in the back of his throat. He never planned on running into Choi Seungcheol again _ever_. But even if he had fathomed a potential reunion, he could have never imagined that it would be this awkward, this uncomfortable, and this painful. There was no way he could allude to anything from their past without unleashing pandora’s box simultaneously. And there were many things still left unsaid, mostly on Jihoon’s part. The following silence between them was agonizing and he really wished Seungkwan would hurry out so that they could leave, but his savior from the awkward situation took another form.

“Hey, I thought you were going to get us a table?” A velvety voice said approaching the duo.

The first thing Jihoon noticed was the man’s hair was the exact tint of platinum blonde that he used to wear on his own hair, before dying it. The man was handsome, modelesque even, and attached himself to Seungcheol’s side like a leech. His body was huddled against Seungcheol’s side signaling familiarity. Suddenly, Jihoon didn’t feel awkward. He felt downright embarrassed for being alone, running into Seungcheol and his new…

“Oh,” the man said finally noticing Jihoon’s presence only after Seungcheol refused to break eye contact. “Who’s this?” His sweet smile felt sickening to Jihoon. He had been through enough life lessons to know a fake smile when he saw one.

Seungcheol cleared his throat, coming out of his entranced reverie and pointed between the two. “ Jeonghan, this is Jihoon. He’s one of my old college classmates. Jihoon, this is Jeonghan.”

Classmate?

_Classmate_?

If there was one thing Jihoon was certain of, it was that there was no way in hell their chapter of ancient history was titled "C_lassmates_."

Jeonghan smiled even brighter and extended a hand towards Jihoon. Jihoon was apprehensive to take it. He could read between the lines of what Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s relationship was and somehow, the blond’s extended hand symbolized much more. Instead of camaraderie, Jeonghan’s smile and extended hand seemed to say, “You were a formidable contestant but I won the door prize.” He hesitantly shook the hand before him anyway. If he wasn’t anything, he was cordial.

“Nice to meet you,” Jeonghan said withdrawing his hand. “We came to visit our friend Vernon. He’s the DJ here. Do you know him?”

Before Jihoon could further indulge in the conversation, Seungkwan came bursting through the doors of the karaoke bar, a triumphant glint in his eyes and a wide grin on his lips. He waved his phone in the air in Jihoon’s general direction. 

“I got it!” He exclaimed.

“Oh good you got the uber,” Jihoon said giving Seungkwan a hard look, hoping he would understand the cue to play along. Seungcheol sized the newcomer up and down, trailing his eyes back towards Jihoon and furrowing his brows.

“Uber?” Seungkwan asked confusion crossing his face. “No, I was talking about-”

“I know the _Uber_,” Jihoon stressed taking Seungkwan’s hand in his. “Because we have to go now. I’m sure it’ll be here any minute.” After seconds of receiving a blank stare from his friend, Jihoon turned towards Seungcheol and Jeonghan once again with an apologetic smile. “As you can see it’s been a long night so we should really get going.”

“Oh we totally understand,” Jeonghan said tugging on Seungcheol’s hand. “Have a good night.”

Jihoon turned on his heels prepared to push Seungkwan as far away from the bar as possible and then into a ditch when Seungcheol called his name again. He looked over his shoulder to find, Jeonghan had already entered the bar and Seungcheol holding the door open.

“It was good seeing you again,” he said eyes lingering on Jihoon one more time before heading inside.

Jihoon let out a heavy breath and crouched down, bracing himself against his knees.

“What was all of that about?” Seungkwan asked looking back at the bar and then over at the keeling man.

“That…was Seungcheol,” Jihoon said between his legs. “Choi Seungcheol.”

Seungkwan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Seungcheol? The one that you-”

“Mmhmm,” Jihoon mumbled from his bent position.

“The one you’re in _love _with!” Seungkwan exclaimed slapping his hands to his cheeks in shock.

“Don’t tell the whole damn neighborhood!” Jihoon glared looking up at the brunet. “I don’t even know that I’m still in love with him. It’s been years.”

“Then why are you practically hyperventilating on the street right now?” Seungkwan asked voice laced with concern. He rushed over to Jihoon’s side, helping him stand up straight and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it? We could go get some food and we can talk about it.”

Jihoon shook his head fervently. He wrapped his arms around himself in a tight, insecure hug and exhaled slowly. “The last thing I want to do is talk about it.” He said staring out into the night. “I’m tired. I’m just gonna call it a night and head home.”

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Seungkwan offered.

“No, just…just text me when you make it back.” Jihoon said already hightailing it down to the crosswalk.

“Same to you!” Seungkwan called looking after the short male until he vanished down the street.

* * *

Jihoon felt the warm rays of sunlight pouring into his bedroom window and dancing across his eyelids. He wanted to close the blinds so badly. He wasn’t ready to wake up, too comfortable with his face pressed against the warm bare skin of a comforting chest. He hung onto the last remnants of sleep as it slipped away from and inhaled deeply taking in his partner’s scent. It was earthy, resembling cedar or sandalwood and Jihoon came to love the fragrance over the past few months, though he’d never admit. He lightly dragged his fingers across the exposed skin and down to his navel, finally opening his eyes. His own brown orbs stared down at Jihoon, reflecting in the morning sunlight and Jihoon couldn’t tear away.

He never thought anything extraordinary about his own brown eyes but _his_ were ones to be envied. They reminded him of deep pools of caramel lined with chocolate accents. In the sunlight, they reminded him of the warmth of cinnamon as shades of sienna reflected in radiance.

“You know you talk in your sleep?” He asked the corner of his mouth up turning into a cute smirk.

Jihoon rose up from his position on the man’s chest and shifted over to his side of the bed. “I do not.” He insisted looking for his cellphone beneath the linen sheets and comforter.

“Sure you do,” the man said rolling on his side to face Jihoon and propping his head up with his arm. “You were saying my name all night and a little this morning.”

“Proof or it didn’t happen,” Jihoon said fumbling with the sheets. Where was his phone?

The man grabbed his wrists and pinned him down flat on his back, head softly landing on the pillow beneath him. Jihoon watched as the smirk turned into a full-on grin and the man’s pink tongue darted out slowly, swiping across his bottom lip. “I don’t need proof when the memory is still engraved in my brain.” He said leaning down for a chaste kiss. His soft lips danced across Jihoon’s eliciting a wanton moan. “Seungcheol,” the man moaned out in mimicry. “Seungcheol…Seungcheol…Seungcheol.”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed. Seungcheol? The face appeared clearer to him now, The thick, dark brows knitted in confusion as Jihoon pulled away from the kiss and took in his presence. “Seungcheol, what are you doing here-”

He could hear his phone vibrating angrily beneath the sheets and letting out a piercing and alarming ring, causing Jihoon to shoot straight up in a cold sweat.

The room was completely dark and he was alone.

He stared at the perpetual darkness surrounding him, breath hitching and beads of sweat forming along his forehead, dampening his locks.

He was all alone.

The sound of his cellphone’s alarm continued to blare throughout the room, tangled in the cotton sheets of his bed. He blindly searched for the device, sweeping his hands across the expanse of the mattress until he came in contact with the device. The blue light illuminated the room, displaying the current time with a quick text reminder that it was time for him to get up and go to work. He slid his thumb across the screen and collapsed back onto his pillow in the silence.

He hadn’t dreamed about Seungcheol in years. And all it took was one run in and his brain was already reproducing memories of the man. It was nerve-racking. There really shouldn’t be a reason that Jihoon could remember his scent so clearly. It had been years since he shared the same bed with Seungcheol, and yet he could still pick out the unmistakable scent in his dreams. The phantom scent released a surge of dopamine in his brain and wrapped him in a constant state of comfort. Why in the fuck did he have to run into him?

* * *

“You look like complete and utter _shit,_” Seungkwan said marveling at Jihoon’s appearance as he sat down at the table. Internally, Seungkwan felt a bit victorious that he successfully managed to drag Jihoon out somewhere—this time for a well-deserved lunch break, but he had no idea his friend looked so worn out.

Jihoon’s eyes were rimmed red and surrounded by noticeably forming bags beneath them. His hair wasn’t meticulously combed as it usually was, his dark locks laying every which way across his head. His body slumped forward slightly when he sat down and Seungkwan was actually worried that the man might fall over onto the lunch menu before him.

“I didn’t get much sleep this weekend,” Jihoon admitted, a wide-mouthed yawn following the statement.

“Why not?” Seungkwan asked.

Jihoon picked his head up to stare at his friend. “I kept having recurring dreams…or maybe nightmares.”

“About?” Seungkwan probed.

“Seungcheol.”

Seungkwan nodded in understanding and picked up his own lunch menu. “I see,” he said thumbing through the laminated pages. “Well, I think you should talk about it. Obviously, you need to if it’s on your mind so heavily that you’re losing sleep over it.”

The waiter came promptly to take their orders and collect their menus and returned inside the restaurant. Jihoon stared off into the distance, watching the crisp green leaves blow restlessly in the summer breeze. He could feel Seungkwan waiting expectantly and let out a small sigh, meeting his eyes once again.

“What’s there to talk about? We had a really…weird thing…in college. He wanted more out of it and I didn’t. I got scared so I took the coward’s way out.” Jihoon said shrugging. He ran his fingers through his hair and lolled his head back momentarily.

“But you were still in love with him,” Seungkwan said. Jihoon nodded. “Then why didn’t you want to be with him? I know you briefly told me about this before but I don’t really understand what the problem was?”

Jihoon drummed his fingers against the white polyester table cloth. He chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating whether or not expressing the thoughts he kept to himself for so long would free him or push him further into anxiety.

“Sometimes…Seungkwan,” he said slowly refusing to meet the other’s eyes, “happiness can feel like dying a thousand deaths.” A brief moment of silence passed between them and Jihoon appreciatively acknowledged Seungkwan’s notion for him to continue. “In a state of pure bliss and happiness, you—well I, always seem to wonder if this is the happiest I’ll ever be again? Have I peaked? The happiness kind of becomes a…mirage. That’s how it felt with Seungcheol. And…it had nothing to do with him…it was all my thought process and my fears stunting me.”

Jihoon finally looked up at Seungkwan who seemed to be staring intently at him. Jihoon licked his lips, looking away briefly, and continued. “I had—_have_ existential fears, Seungkwan. I know everyone does but, your own fears always seem to supersede those of others, you know? And I believe that the more we have in life, the more we have to lose. The more someone or something means to us, the more afraid we are of losing that person. Love and life just work out that way. I was just afraid of losing it…losing everything. So I ran.”

Seungkwan gave Jihoon a sympathetic look. He reached across the table to his hand and rubbed it comfortingly. Jihoon could only muster a half-grin in appreciation. It did feel good to talk to someone about it, but it didn’t make the problem go away for him. Seungcheol was back in town now and the odds of them running into each other again were very likely. He didn’t want to spiral out of control.

“So that’s what it is? You’re afraid?” Seungkwan asked. “I know this is probably a stretch but, did you ever try to tell Seungcheol this?”

Jihoon snorted as the waiter set their orders before them and picked up his fork deftly. “No.” He said simply taking a bite of his food and swallowing. “No. Relationships were uncharted territory for me. It was risky to mention any of this. I already felt vulnerable enough and there was no way my pride would let me face the option of being ridiculed or misunderstood.”

“So, our _situationship_ was limited to fucking. That’s what it started out as and through that we became friends. After that, it became more complicated.” Jihoon continued. “I’m perceptive. I know Seungcheol was in love with me and I felt the same way but I also knew the way he loved me was more than the way I loved him. It radiated off of him. He definitely wears his heart on his sleeve. But me? I’m very take-it-or-leave-it and I wasn’t sure my feelings could ever evolve to match his. Relationships are hard when one person loves harder.” He paused to swallow down another bite and pointed his fork at Seungkwan. “So when I let up and pushed away, we both did fucked up shit to each other.”

“Fucked up as in what exactly?” Seungkwan asked.

Jihoon shook his head fervently. “That, I don’t want to talk about.”

Seungkwan took a long sip of his water and slowly set the glass back down. He nodded, contemplating how he should formulate his words before responding, “You should talk to him.”

Jihoon choked on his own food, releasing a series of hacking coughs as he struggled to force the bit of chicken down his throat. He reached for his glass, downing the water as quickly as possible, and swallowing in relief when he could appropriately breathe.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that. You saw him last night, he has a boyfriend. They were there because they’re friends with that DJ you stalk. His name is Vernon.”

“Oh, then you _definitely _have to talk to him.” Seungkwan insisted.

Jihoon shot the man a hard glare and tossed his napkin at him. “Are you listening to what I’m saying or focusing on your dick. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I hear you,” Seungkwan said. “But I think you should still try. At the end of the day, it’s your decision ultimately but I feel like you’re never gonna have peace with the situation if you don’t get your closure.”

Suddenly, Jihoon didn’t have much of an appetite.

* * *

Jihoon was waiting for coffee when he met him. The most handsome man he had ever seen in his life. The first thing he noticed was the man was especially tall, tall enough that Jihoon actually had to crane his neck up after feeling a light tap on his shoulder. He was dressed pretty simply, donned in a black tee and a jean jacket, followed by ripped black jeans and sneakers.

He smiled down at Jihoon in a friendly manner but there was also something flirtatious about it as his dark, rich brown eyes scanned Jihoon up and down. He pointed at the cup of ice coffee Jihoon currently had his hands curled around and moved his lips to form sentences Jihoon was too incoherent to even hear.

“Huh?” Jihoon asked blinking again at the man.

“I said,” he repeated in a lower octave, “I think that’s my drink you’re holding.” He pointed at the name scribbled in black permanent marker on the side of the clear cup. Jihoon could barely read the barista’s messy handwriting and only managed to make out a couple of letters.

S-e?

Seun?

He rationalized that it didn’t even matter because it clearly wasn’t his own name. He cast his gaze towards the ground as he felt the telltale heat of embarrassment creep up his neck, shading his skin scarlet. 

“Sorry,” he managed to get out handing the cup to its owner and offering the unopened straw as a peace offering.

The man’s hearty laugh brought Jihoon’s attention back upwards in time to take in the deep pitted dimples on each of his cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it. It was just a mistake, although now I have to know your name.” He said leaning against the counter, pushing the straw into his iced Americano.

“My name? Why?” Jihoon asked.

“Well,” the man said smiling genuinely, “It has to be relatively close to mine own for you to make such a mistake.”

The barista walked over to their side of the counter and slid over an identical drink towards Jihoon and offered her thanks as she returned to work. The man picked up the drink and inspected the handwriting.

“Jihoon,” he said. Jihoon shuddered at how his name rolled off his tongue.

The man placed a straw into Jihoon’s cup and handed his own cup back to Jihoon. “You can keep this one,” he said. “And since we’ve already exchanged names, maybe we can exchange phone numbers as well.”

Jihoon studied the lining of the cup his whole entire walk home, straining and squinting his eyes until he could read the scribbled handwriting.

S-E-U-N-G-C-H-E-O-L. Seungcheol. Seungcheol?

Jihoon’s eyes opened wide and his loud gasp echoed throughout the room. His head was plastered against the desk in his office cubicle and a small puddle of drool held his skin against the surface. He pulled away, cringing at the sound of sticky skin leaving the surface and removed the bunch of sticky notes tacked to his forehead. He scanned the small clock perched on his desk.

6:01

_What, _he thought as he looked around the office. Surely enough the office was abandoned save for a few writers who opted to stay late to get their assignments in. The large windows adorning the walls of the large office, showed the dark of night confirming Jihoon’s assumption.

He slept through the rest of his shift.

He gathered his supplies in his disoriented state and shoved them into his bag quickly. He was undoubtedly embarrassed about falling asleep in the first place, but more so upset about not being able to finish his own assignments, setting him back a couple of days. He bid his goodbyes to the remaining night crew and rushed out of the building, en route to his apartment.


	2. Historic Recurrence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> History always repeats itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> So this was the first full-on smut scene that I've written in about 5 to 8 years so I apologize if it's a bit rusty. I'm in the middle of Pharmacy finals week so I kind of rushed getting this chapter out (in other words this has not been proofread and edited yet). If you find any mistakes, please let me know. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> -Energy

When your best friend invites you out to some random house party on a Tuesday night, you don’t try to find ways to get out of it. You suck it up and go for the sake of your friend (all the while hoping that he cancels at the last minute). Unfortunately for Jihoon, Seungkwan was very efficient at seeing his own ideas through.

It wasn’t how he wanted to spend the evening by any means. Jihoon was still days behind in work and almost a week behind in sleep, however, there was no way he was going to let his friend go to some shady party by himself.

Seungkwan went through hell and high water to find Vernon’s (said DJ that he was infatuated with) Instagram account and even further to find out that the man was hosting an open party at a warehouse on the opposite end of town. Jihoon could’ve easily pointed out that Seungkwan’s tactics were legally considered stalking, but he wouldn’t dare dim the glint in the brown-haired male’s eyes.

“This is completely not weird,” Seungkwan said more to himself than to Jihoon as they stood feet away from the warehouse club. “It’s not weird for me to be here.”

Jihoon raised his brow, hands in his pockets. “Second-guessing yourself after we’ve taken the hour-long bus ride to get here?”

Seungkwan shook his head replacing the look of apprehension with one of determination. “Of course not. It’s just,” his shoulders slumped a bit and he chewed his lower lip. “We exchanged names and he knows of me but I don’t know if it would be weird if I just popped up to something without being invited.”

Jihoon sighed and turned to stand directly in front of the taller male. He grabbed Seungkwan’s shoulders and his attention simultaneously. “Listen to me,” he said giving him a steady look. “You said yourself that this was an open invitation. If you want this guy, be direct and if he doesn’t want you, then that’s his loss and there will be plenty of other people at this party to mingle with. You’re Boo Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan raised his head towards the warehouse and smiled. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

* * *

20 minutes into the party and Jihoon felt sick. He was definitely overstimulated by the dancing strobe lights and the strong smell of alcohol on the breath of dancing bodies. He felt dizzy. He couldn’t exactly remember when Seungkwan became one with the dancing crowd or where he disappeared to, but Jihoon felt like a zombie stumbling through the party looking for his friend’s familiar face.

He politely turned down several drinks sent his way and declined every offer for a dance. He was only here for Seungkwan and now he even regretted agreeing to come. But, Jihoon was no stranger to guy code and aside from the strict rule that you always play wingman if possible, the biggest rule of friendship was to never leave your friend, especially at a party. Jihoon couldn’t possibly sleep if he didn’t know Seungkwan made it back safely to his apartment, so he was willing to put up with his antics—at least for thirty more minutes—then he would forcibly drag the younger man out.

Jihoon stumbled to the back of the warehouse where he could make out a back door leading outside to what he hoped was a patio. He needed fresh, cold air to combat the suffocating heat within the party.

Pushing through the vast throng of gyrating bodies, he shot through the door and gasped in relief as the cool breeze whipped across his face. He gripped the railing enclosing the patio tightly and closed his eyes reveling in the instant feeling of peace encompassing him.

Then he heard it. The unmistakable sound of a moan and lips smacking against each other echoed in the night and assaulted Jihoon’s ears.

He tensed immediately, dreading the thought of bursting out in the middle of someone’s make-out session. His mind was by no means prepared to awkwardly retreat from the situation if the couple noticed his presence and the only logical thing to do—according to his subconscious— was to jump over the railing and take off running. He actually contemplated it. 

But then he heard something else.

A voice.

A familiar voice.

Jihoon whipped his head around, frozen in his position at the scene. Seungcheol was sitting in the lone chair on the patio, drink cradled in his right hand, looking up at a man that had his arms wrapped around his upper torso, standing behind him.

The unidentified man lapped at Seungcheol’s ear before whispering something in it, triggering a smirk from Seungcheol and the two shared a lewd, provocative kiss.

Jihoon could feel thousands of knives stabbing into his heart as he swallowed, eyes never leaving the scene. He couldn’t move and he wasn’t sure if he was frozen in fear or anger. Seungcheol didn’t owe him anything, they weren’t together, never had been. And yet, it seemed like the ultimate offense, the ultimate disgrace for him to flaunt around so buoyantly.

When Seungcheol’s eyes finally landed on him, denoting his presence, Jihoon ran back inside as quickly as he could. He pushed past all of the people in his path, eyes fixated on finding the door. The music was hurting his ears now and the loud reverberating bass of the latest EDM hit wasn’t enough to cover the sound of his name being shouted feet behind him.

A strong hand grabbed him, forcibly spinning him around and bringing him face to face with wide chocolate eyes. The itching in Jihoon’s palm told him to slap the man. He wanted to inflict some form of physical pain to make up for the emotional pain he felt himself. But he just stood there, waiting for something to leave Seungcheol’s mouth. Anything.

“What’s your problem?” Seungcheol said bitterness lacing his voice. Jihoon flinched at the unfamiliar tone and felt his face heat up in frustration. “You’re the one who didn’t want anything, and the first sight of me with someone else sends you bolting.”

Jihoon couldn’t reply, after all, Seungcheol was right. He didn’t want a relationship. It was selfish of him to even think he could continue to stake claims in Seungcheol and forcibly hold his feelings hostage.

“You’re right, Seungcheol. Do whatever the fuck you want.” Jihoon said sharply, turning on his heels, and heading for the exit.

“Jihoon!” Seungcheol yelled out. He didn’t move from his spot to chase the shorter man. “Jihoon!”

  
  
  
  
  


“Jihoon?”

Jihoon blinked, holding a red cup in his hand and leaning against a wall. Seungkwan was staring at him quizzically, head tilted in concern.

“What?” Jihoon asked blinking in confusion.

“I asked if you were okay?” Suengkwan yelled over the loud music. “We came in, grabbed our drinks, and you zoned out for about five minutes. I was starting to get worried.” Seungkwan said nursing his own drink. “You looked like you were having a stroke.”

Jihoon blinked and looked around him. The party was still going. The music was still loud. The only difference was, there was no sign of Seungcheol. He wasn’t there. He had never been there. Just a figment of Jihoon’s imagination.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Jihoon said tossing his drink in a nearby trash can. “But, I think I’m just gonna go Suengkwan. I’m not in the right state of mind to be drinking or partying.”

Seungkwan nodded slowly. “Do you want me to walk with you?”

“And miss your opportunity with the DJ? No way. I’ll be fine.” Jihoon waved his friend off. “You enjoy the party and just text me when you make it home.”

Jihoon didn’t wait for a response from his concerned friend and instead left out as quickly as he came.

* * *

  
  


Jihoon was convinced he was in the middle of another fever dream when Seungcheol stood before him. He was 100% sure he had walked the path to his own apartment, however, here was Seungcheol standing in the open doorway of an apartment that wasn’t his.

He wasn’t sure how he even remembered Seungcheol’s new address (he only saw it once after doing a curious Google search) and it made no sense for him to actually _ be here _. So it had to be a dream. It had to be another delusional hallucination.

But he wasn’t waking up. And Seungcheol’s confused face was an indicator that this was probably something else.

“I’ll wake up any moment,” Jihoon muttered out loud to himself prompting Seungcheol to raise a brow.

“What?” Seungcheol asked shifting his weight to lean against the door frame.

“This is a dream. I know it is. And I’ll wake up any moment. Just say my name.” Jihoon reasoned bracing himself against the railing near the door.

“Jihoon,” Seungcheol said slowly. And when Jihoon didn’t find himself in bed, or at work, or anywhere else but _ here _, he continued, “why don’t you come inside?”

Suddenly, Jihoon realized why he was here. It wasn’t unintentional. His subconscious lead him to Seungcheol’s door for closure. It was his chance to come face to face with his fears and inadmissible thoughts.

It was time to come clean.

* * *

Seungcheol sat on the sofa contemplating Jihoon’s words slowly. He shut his eyes tightly, letting a breath escape past his lips as if it’d be the last one he’d ever take. His strong fingers laced together in a firm clasp and Jihoon could see the prominent outline of his veins trailing down to his wrist.

“I didn’t know what love was, Jihoon,” he said slowly, eyes still shut and his body very still. “But, I knew I felt it for you. It’s the weirdest shit ever.” He let out a reticent chuckle. “I didn’t know what love was and yet I felt it. I swear I could feel it.” Seungcheol opened his eyes meeting Jihoon’s frozen gaze as he slowly trailed his hand up to his own chest and clenched over his heart. “Right here. I felt it.” Jihoon swallowed.

“Every day that I would see you, the feeling became more intense. I remember—very clearly—how you would call me “a fucking idiot” whenever I said something or did something. It seemed like it would be an insult to anybody passing by, but I knew better. The crinkle of your eyes as you said it betrayed you. The slight upturn of your lips made it known that there wasn’t any real malice behind your words. I felt it then.” Seungcheol said sinking back into the sofa, hands crossed against his chest as he stared at the ceiling.

“And on those days, when you’d get an A on a test or a quiz, you’d run throughout campus just to find me and show me. You were doing it to make a point—that I should study as hard and as often as you do. But, I could only ever focus on the fact that I was the first person you thought of in your moment of pride, happiness, and excitement.”

“We did a lot of traditional things non-traditionally, you know? We ate together, we sang off-key in the car—well I did, you sang beautifully. We danced—despite my two left feet. It was hard not to fall for you and I was misled by my own feelings.” Seungcheol said furrowing his brows at an invisible spot on the ceiling. “You were and always will be my greatest temptation.”

Jihoon wrung the tail end of his shirt between his hands nervously. He could feel a ball of emotions stuck in his chest. He didn’t know if it was actual vomit or the feelings he had been suppressing for years. “How,” he managed to utter out slowly, “h-how could you still—” The words failed to come out.

Seungcheol lolled his head over to stare at the shorter male. “I just do.” He answered the intended question. “Even when I didn’t hear from you again, I hoped that whoever was worthy of all of your love and affection appreciated it like I did. Of course, I didn’t want to be hung up on it, you know? I dated. I slept around. It just wasn’t the same. Your heart will always beat for another person but it won’t be the same.”

Jihoon nodded in understanding. He knew exactly what Seungcheol meant. Through the years following college, Jihoon attempted to date. It was hard, to say the least. Every guy was too wrong. Too tall. Too vain. Too smart. Too dumb. Too heartless. None of them gave him that _ feeling _.

“Well, you obviously found a good thing in Jeonghan,” Jihoon muttered to himself. His eyes widened at the realization that his internalized thoughts had been voiced into existence. He lifted his gaze to see Seungcheol sitting upright now, confusion written across his face.

“What? You think I’m dating Jeonghan?” Seungcheol asked. “Of course I’m not dating Jeonghan.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jihoon said defensively. “It’s just when I saw you the other night, I just assumed…” he trailed off when he saw a grin creep slowly across Seungcheol’s face.

“Were you jealous?” Seungcheol asked with a hint of excitement.

Jihoon grabbed the decorative pillow right behind him and launched it at Seungcheol’s head when the man began laughing hysterically. Seungcheol managed to dodge the pillow and came to sit directly next to Jihoon on the small loveseat.

“You’re a fucking _ asshole _,” Jihoon said folding his arms and clicking his tongue.

“I just think it’s cute,” Seungcheol said poking Jihoon’s cheek with his index finger. “You still can’t ignore your feelings for me.”

Jihoon brushed off Seungcheol’s touch and stood up from the sofa. He paced around the living room until he stood an adequate enough distance from the man. He turned to face him and folded his arms across his chest. “I can’t—I don’t know if I can handle this…the relationship..the…the _ everything _.”

Seungcheol stared down at the ground before standing up with a defeated sigh. “I guess…you have the right to feel that way. You have to do what’s best for you.”

Jihoon nodded.

“So do I.”

The words left Seungcheol’s lips so fast that Jihoon didn’t have time to process the sudden kiss that was planted upon his lifts. Seungcheol’s lips felt luscious against his owns and ignited a burst of emotions from Jihoon’s gut. Seungcheol’s hands cupped Jihoon’s face tenderly as his tongue prodded against Jihoon’s deliciously. Tremors rolled down Jihoon’s spine and he found himself clinging to Seungcheol’s shirt desperately even after they pulled apart for air.

“If you want me to stop,” Seungcheol breathed heavily, “I’ll stop. But please, baby, please let me love you.” He pleaded resting his forehead down against Jihoon’s.

Jihoon lost all sense of nervousness. He stared deep into Seungcheol’s eyes temporarily forgetting everything that existed around them. He wanted this. He wanted Seungcheol. He wanted the old memories back along with new memories. He didn’t want to make the same mistakes twice. He didn’t want any regrets.

“I love you,” Jihoon whispered softly, burying his head into Seungcheol’s neck. “I love you and I want this.”

Seungcheol kissed Jihoon repeatedly and tangled his arms around the dark-haired man. It felt exactly how it did the last time they were together. Hastened breaths and busy hands found every inch of each other’s body. Fingers tangled in hair, lips pressed against skin, and quiet moans were intoxicating stimuli, sending surges of adrenaline throughout Jihoon’s body down to the tips of his digits.

“Wait,” Seungcheol stopped pulling away as Jihoon began tugging at his shirt. “I don’t want this to be like when we were just fucking. I want this to be right.” He took Jihoon’s hand in his and lead him into a room at the end of the long hallway.

A large bed adorned with white sheets and pillows sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by unpacked cardboard boxes with various words scribbled across them in black marker. Seungcheol led Jihoon over to the bed, gesturing for him to have a seat as he adjusted the room lighting.

“Let’s not rush anything,” Seungcheol said digging through one of the cardboard boxes and pulling out a couple of items. He sat the items on the small nightstand by the bed before taking his spot next to Jihoon on the mattress. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked again warily.

Jihoon leaned towards him, placing a chaste kiss on his lips and offered an affirming nod. “I’m sure.” He said. “I’ve never had to ask you for sex this much in the past.”

“That’s because we were just fucking then. This is different. Sex is different when you’re in love.” Seungcheol reasoned.

He slowly dragged the metal zipper of Jihoon’s jacket down with his left hand and pushed the garment off his shoulders. Light feather touches traced against the bare skin of Jihoon’s exposed arms and Jihoon looked away from the embarrassment of how sensuous it all was. 

  
  


Seungcheol slowly tilted his chin up to meet his own brown eyes. “Do you know how much I hoped for this? How many things I want to do to you?” He asked.

Jihoon felt his ears become warm under Seungcheol’s gaze and suspected that his face was pink by the sight of the small smile that tugged at Seungcheol’s lips. “You talk too much,” Jihoon muttered.

Clicking his tongue, Seungcheol leaned in and began layering slow, wet kisses across Jihoon’s neck. He applied pressure with his tongue to Jihoon’s clavicle, grinning at the loud moan when he gave a particularly hard suck to the area. Seungcheol lapped lightly at the forming purple bruise and trailed his thumb over it to inspect his work. He traced his other fingers down the column of Jihoon’s neck and stopped at the collar of his t-shirt.

“Take it off,” Seungcheol said huskily staring at the shirt and then at Jihoon.

Jihoon’s fingers trembled as he pulled the cotton tee above his head and tossed it to the ground, waiting expectantly for Seungcheol’s next actions.

“You’re being pretty obedient,” Seungcheol quipped trailing his fingers across Jihoon’s stomach. His thumbs stopped on top of Jihoon’s hardened nipples and rubbed slowly across the small buds. Jihoon let out a wanton whimper, tossing his head back in ecstasy. Seungcheol pinched at the buds sending a surge of pain through Jihoon’s body that was quickly soothed by the soft, wet lapping of Seungcheol’s tongue. He slowly nipped at the skin, careful not to bite down too hard with his teeth, and released the nipple from his mouth slowly.

“No more foreplay,” Jihoon complained as Seungcheol moved to the adjacent side of his chest. His tongue darted out, sliding across the hardened bud, despite Jihoon’s pleas. He traced soft, wet circles around the nipple before slowly trailing down the expanse of Jihoon’s toned stomach.

“Seungcheol, _ please _ ,” Jihoon whined. He could feel tiny fireworks erupting in his veins all throughout his body. The rush traveled down his spine and felt like an ice cube rolling slowly and melting down his back. Every goosebump in his body was alive and functioning and Jihoon found himself arching more and more into the touch of Seungcheol’s hands on his waist and tongue nearing his navel. _ He wanted to burst. _

Seungcheol ignored the whimpers in favor of dipping his tongue slowly into Jihoon’s navel. He gave the area a tentative lick before pulling Jihoon’s jeans down slightly, enough to expose the forming V-lines on Jihoon’s lower abdomen. The man groaned appreciatively at the sight and rubbed his thumbs across the junction.

“I want to suck you off first,” He said. It wasn’t posed as a question. It wasn’t really a statement either. Seungcheol’s words left his lips as if he was simply stating his thoughts aloud. It was a confession between Seungcheo and his subconscious that Jihoon just happened to overhear. He could tell by the low murmur of his voice that it wasn’t up for debate. Seungcheol planned to suck him off before moving forward. And that was just that.

The brunet’s wide eyes trailed back up to Jihoon’s for affirmation, wanting to make sure that every step was okay and none of the boundaries had been crossed. Jihoon nodded impatiently, wiggling out of his restraining jeans so fast that Seungcheol chuckled, offering him a hand by slowly unbuttoning the clasp and dragging the metal zipper down.

A dark wet spot had already formed on the front of Jihoon’s boxer briefs and Seungcheol could see the imprint of Jihoon’s hardened cock straining against the fabric, the tip threatening to peek over the waistband. He wrapped his hand around the clothed bulge and massaged it slowly eliciting melodious groans from the man beneath him. As much as Seungcheol wanted to speed things up--his own dick begging him to end the torture-- he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to hear those sweet moans fall off of Jihoon’s tongue.

There was a music-like quality to the noises Jihoon made and it made Seungcheol feel like a conductor. He took pride in directing the musical performance that was Jihoon’s moans. He loved that he could shape the tempo of Jihoon’s breaths. With only hand gestures and eye contact, Jihoon could articulate his moans in short, sharp staccatos. And with a circular motion, the closing of the palm, or pinching of the finger and thumb, Seungcheol could bring Jihoon to his release until he succumbed, in complete stillness.

Seungcheol leaned down and lapped at the wet spot on Jihoon’s briefs, shaping his lips around the imprint of his cock. He dragged the waistband of the underwear down slowly until Jihoon’s thick cock sprang out, standing erect. Jihoon sighed in relief when the air graced the tip of his head leaking precum.

Seungcheol didn’t waste any time, wrapping his lush red lips around the head of Jihoon’s cock and pressing his tongue against the frenulum. Jihoon inhaled sharply and gripped the sheets beneath him, clenching his eyes shut tightly.

“No,” Seungcheol commanded popping the Jihoon’s length out of his mouth. “Watch me.”

Jihoon warily opened his eyes again and looked down at his lover with half-lidded eyes. Seungcheol returned to his ministration, lapping at the mushroom-shaped tip and then dipping his tongue in the slit. Precum gathered on the end of Seungcheol’s pink tongue and Jihoon watched as he swallowed unabashedly. He trembled. This man was going to kill him.

Seungcheol smirked at the effect he had over the shorter male and leaned forward, engulfing Jihoon’s cock in one go and sinking down to his balls. Jihoon instinctively threaded his fingers in Seungcheol’s dark locks and tugged at them slightly as he thrust into the back of his throat.

Seungcheol gargled slightly at the intrusion, relaxing his throat and wiping away the tears that threatened to spill over from the force of Jihoon’s thrusting. His muffled moan sent vibrations up Jihoon’s length and caused the man to tighten his grip even further.

“Fuck Cheol!” He cried out trembling at the feeling of Seungcheol’s tongue prodding against the thick vein on the underside of his cock. “Fuck.Fuck. Fuck. I can’t last.”

Seungcheol bobbed his head rhythmically watching the trail of saliva gathering down Jihoon’s cock. Jihoon lurched up suddenly, burying Seungcheol’s head in his abdomen as he rode out his release, pumping his seed into Seungcheol’s warm mouth. Seungcheol slowly released Jihoon’s cock from his mouth, a trail of saliva and cum connecting from his lips to the tip and breaking mid-air. Jihoon panted, eyes glazed, watching every small action that Seungcheol made as he came down from his high. His eyes were glued to the wet mess across Seungcheol’s reddish lips and as disgusting as it was, all he wanted to do was kiss him and taste the results of Seungcheol’s efforts.

Seungcheol rose up with a content smile, swallowing all of the salty essence and pushed Jihoon down slowly onto the mattress. He straddled Jihoon’s waist, locking the man beneath him in place with his toned thighs and unbuckled Jihoon’s belt.

It was amazing to Jihoon how quickly he became reacquainted with Seungcheol’s touch. Feeling the pad of his fingers tracing every inch of his skin sent familiar shockwaves down his spine. Seungcheol’s breathing resounded rhythmically in his ears and syncopated with his own pants. More than anything though, Jihoon was transfixed by Seungcheol’s eyes. They were always a weakness for him. They held so much emotion in them and while Seungcheol hated the fact (it made it very easy for Jihoon and others to read him), Jihoon loved being able to see every emotion, every feeling, and every experience through Seungcheol’s brown orbs.

Suddenly Jihoon could recall every encounter. Every night in Seungcheol’s dorm room. Every afternoon in Jihoon’s. He remembered Seungcheol feeling him up in the back row of their shared psychology class until Jihoon was practically dragging him out as the professor went on about Sigmund Freud. There was excitement and intensity in what they had. It was pure fun and inebriated bliss. But this was better. So much better. It was passionate and painful at the same time. Jihoon felt an invisible string wrapped around his heart, extending across his chest and staking claim around Seungcheol’s. He felt connected to the older man, so much so, that every time Seungcheol pulled away—even slightly to take in Jihoon’s face— the string pulled and tugged, tightening around Jihoon’s heart painfully. Jihoon pulled Seungcheol’s shirt off of him, exposing his toned framed and pulled the man down into a tight hug. Their chests pressed into one another’s and Jihoon could feel their heartbeat syncing together. He relaxed under the warmth of Seungcheol’s body heat and held the man tighter, hoping their skin would mold into one.

“Jihoon?” Seungcheol asked face buried into the shorter’s neck. His lips placed an open-mouthed kiss on the nape of Jihoon’s neck. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jihoon breathed out staring at the ceiling momentarily and then back at Seungcheol. “I’m okay. Keep going.”

Seungcheol picked up his head and leaned in for a soft kiss before rising back into a straddling position. He moved his index finger across the slit prompting Jihoon to jump from the overstimulation and let out a needy whine. He wrapped his hand around the throbbing cock and dragged it down towards Jihoon’s balls in a lazy stroke.

“You’re prettier than I remember,” Seungcheol mused aloud watching his hand pulling and tugging at the thick cock. “So pretty,” he groaned swiping his thumb across the vein along the underside of Jihoon’s cock.

Jihoon whined, bucking into Seungcheol’s hand impatiently. “No more foreplay.” He emphasized again as he squeezed his eyes shut tight at the feeling of Seungcheol squeezing him at the base.

Seungcheol clicked his tongue and released Jihoon’s cock. He leaned towards the nightstand and grabbed one of the items that he placed there moments ago. The sound of a lid snapping open caused Jihoon to reopen his eyes, just in time to see Seungcheol coating two of his fingers with a generous layer of lube.

“I want you to be good to me and open up,” Seungcheol said in a low voice as he propped each of Jihoon’s legs on his shoulders. “I want you to take me like a good boy.” Jihoon swallowed. Seungcheol spread Jihoon’s cheeks apart slowly, circling his rim with his two wet fingers, before pushing his coated middle finger in slowly.

Jihoon shuddered as Seungcheol continued to work him open adding a second finger and then a third. Seungcheol withdrew his digits slowly and coated his cock with the remaining lube in the bottle and stroked himself slowly.

“Are you ready?” Seungcheol asked looking deep into Jihoon’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Jihoon nodded.

The feeling of Seungcheol’s cock stretching him open was both foreign and welcomed. Seungcheol’s breath hitched as he slowly sank into Jihoon’s tightness until completely bottoming out.

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me,” Seungcheol growled out momentarily burying his head in Jihoon’s neck. “So fucking tight Jihoonie. I’m gonna have to fuck you open.”

Jihoon’s mouth with dry and he tried to swallow down a response but was interrupted by the feeling of Seungcheol withdrawing. The feeling was frustrating--being left with only the tip of Seungcheol’s cock inside of him-- but was quickly replaced by a sudden thrust, burying him inside once again. Jihoon yelped and ecstasy, writhing beneath Seungcheol’s erratic thrusts. He honed in on the sound of slapping skin and the headboard knocking against the wall in sync to every pump of Seungcheol’s hips and arch of Jihoon’s back.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Seungcheol admitted placing a soft kiss on Jihoon’s lips and staring into his eyes. “So _ fucking much _.”

Jihoon’s mouth hung agape, paralyzed in ecstasy, too focused on Seungcheol’s cock grazing the bundle of nerves to give a response. His knuckles turned white from gripping the mattress beneath him so hard and beads of sweat trickled down his neck, pooling at his shoulders.

“I c-can’t,” Jihoon gasped out, tilting his head back. “I’m coming!”

Seungcheol’s thrust stuttered as Jihoon came, leaving warm pearls of cum on both of their chests. He pumped asynchronously in and out of Jihoon until his own release followed. He pulled out slowly and rolled on his back next to Jihoon, cradling him in the crook of his side next to him. Jihoon reasoned that it would only be a matter of time before Seungcheol lulled into a deep sleep like he typically did after sex.

Jihoon, on the other hand, wouldn’t be as lucky.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was 3:05 a.m. when Jihoon plotted his escape. It took him one whole our to reason through the anxiety of the situation and come to the conclusion that things weren’t okay. It took him an additional five minutes to scramble out of Seungcheol’s hold, without waking him, and gather his discarded clothes off the ground.

An insurmountable amount of guilt plagued Jihoon as memories of the last time he made his escape in the night flooded his mind. It was so similar. The mad-dash for his clothes, getting dressed and watching Seungcheol sleeping soundly. He didn’t want to do it to Suengcheol again and he felt fucking guilty. He really did. But, his mind was telling him something else.

Things would be better if he did. Things were okay when he and Seungcheol didn’t complicate things.

He quietly tiptoed over to the bedroom door, hand gripping the metal knob. He looked back slowly at the sleeping form on the mattress and exhaled quietly.

_ I’m sorry, Seungcheol. I just can’t. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to give a kudos and/or comment!
> 
> Twitter: @WriteWithEnergy


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